One afternoon, Yorrick heard the BBC tones of an announcer from the evil TV: "Now, Chuck Norris stars in the heart-warming action film, 'Partners.'" Yorrick squeaked, and leapt up.  Was this what life had become?  Endless Chuck Norris films with a background of bouncing mattress springs?  The time was nigh...
   Yorrick wanted to leave a note, but what with not having any arms, he did have a little trouble with that.  So instead he searched through the take-away boxes for some old noodles to spell out a message (my Uncle Mark does the same thing - it's not that he doesn't have any arms, it's just that he has a problem with keeping pens).  Briefly he told Willow and Xander he was off to find out the truth, and they could get their own tea.  Yorrick searched around and wrapped his possessions in an old hanky - Giles' diamond-studded necklace, a box of Persil, and a fold-up travel coat hanger.
   Outside the door, his doubts quickly returned.  Who was he kidding?  Exactly how far can a vest get on his own?  Yorrick needed help, a companion, someone to watch his back, someone who had been around, and more importantly, who understood revenge.  The vest looked forlornly around, wondering where such a person might be found (especially since the last story had killed off most of the major characters), when his gaze fell on the cemetery next door, and an idea began to form in his mind.
   Amidst the multitude of gravestones, Yorrick picked his way to the sombre looking stone crypts among the trees.  The cemetery was unnaturally quiet, the sounds of insects and birds notably lacking.  But the silence was not total - across the slight breeze drifted the sounds of music.  Well, some would call it music, Yorrick pondered as the lyrics sounded: # 'Vacuum cleaner, sucks up budgie!  Ooh no!  Bye-bye!'#.  The vest shook his head sadly, wondering exactly which drugs the Clash had been on when they wrote that one (and it's true - last lines from their hit 'The Magnificent Seven' - check it out if you don't believe me!).  Still, at least the noise told Yorrick which crypt to go into.
   The heavy iron-studded door creaked open ominously, and a small cotton shoulder leaned round it.  A bleached blonde head appeared, followed by a dark-clothed body.
   "I know, I know.  Not very stealthy, eh?  But I don't care.  Since I escaped from them soldier boys I been on the run an' I'm sick of it.  I'm gettin' out of here before they destroy another perfectly bloody good crypt." Spike explained as he viciously pulled the cassette from the tape player, looked at it fondly, before tossing it into the open rucksack and looking back at the vest.
   Yorrick squeaked and indicated his hanky-on-a-stick.
   "You too, eh?"
   Yorrick nodded and began to explain, in squeaks somewhat reminiscent of Cousin It.  Only by the strangeness of Sunnydale could Spike be expected to understand, and he did.
   "No bloody way, mate!  Never live it down if I had a vest like you as part of me wardrobe!"
   For a second, Yorrick looked hurt.  Then, as gently as he could, he asked Spike how long he would have survived in his 'neutered' state if Yorrick hadn't disposed of the Slayer.
   "You never know...  She might've taken pity on us, looked after us, hand-fed me fresh blood, even grown to love me..." His voice trailed away.  "Alright, pretty unlikely, innit?  We leave at sunset-"
   Yorrick squeaked loudly and began to purr.
   "But I don't want you gettin' any of that crap on me seats." Spike bullied, pointing at the paler smears that covered the young vest.


So that evening, Yorrick found himself sitting on a plastic carrier bag in the passenger seat of an old Ford Cortina with blacked out windows.  Of course, the windows meant that it was nearly impossible to see at night, and they had already crashed into several stationary objects.  Yorrick squeaked a question, then repeated it three times to be heard above the music in the car.
   "New Zealand."
   "?"
   "Well, way I see it, them soldiers boys are everywhere, an' the US might be a bit hot for a while.  Get as far away as possible, an' Down Under they got that bloody big hole in the ozone layer, I'll have plenty of little snacks on a nice regular basis."
   They sat without talking for a while, until Spike pointed at the radio, where a Sex Pistols tape screamed out the ever-memorable 'Pretty Vacant':

      #'There's no point in asking you'll get no reply
      Oh just remember I don't decide
      I got no reason it's too all much
      You'll always find us out to lunch'#

   "You know," Spike mused.  "Sid once told me they nicked part of that song from Abba." He chuckled.  "Never could figure out which part though!  Good mate of mine, must visit him sometime..."
   Yorrick squeaked pointedly.
   "Drugs overdose?  Not bloody likely!  You think all those holes over his veins were from needles?" Spike asked, his face going all 'vamp'.  "Nah, he's more the nocturnal type now.  Changed a bit though - now writes songs for Boyzone.  What a bloody waste!  I tell you, one time, me an' him were at this gig.  Friggin' shite it was, so Sid pulled the safety pins out of his jacket and went up to the lead singer, right?  Problem was, the singer was up on the stage, and Sid could only reach as far as his wedding tackle..."
   Yorrick had stopped listening some time ago, and rested against the window, thinking.  He was no nearer the revenge part, but at least he was on the move.  Besides, he thought suddenly, New Zealand was the land of Hercules and Xena.  Now, this might not seem too helpful, but once over there, in theory, he would be able to walk from Greece to Palestine in an afternoon.  Geography would mean nothing!  What better way to search the globe for the one who had blown up the school, and changed his life forever?  Feeling much more positive, he turned back to Spike.
   "So anyway, he was covered in blood, I mean really covered.  We went into the bogs to try an' get him cleaned up a bit, you know?  So we're in there, and there's like, a pint of blood on his jeans.  Seein' something like that, it does something to you, and I was friggin' starving, so I was just kneeling there, sucking the blood of him.  Anyway, I'd just got to his crotch, right, when this copper walks in, and the look on his face, well-"
   Yorrick went back to looking out of the window.